WORKHOUSE
V.W. Singer
Published by Fiction4All at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 V.W. Singer
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Chapter One
Lady Chastity Fitzhugh gently fanned herself and smiled at the girl reflected in the large, gilt framed mirror that appeared to be a gaudy doorway into a second ballroom adjacent to the one in which she sat. Could one so innocent looking truly be filled with improper thoughts and urges, she mused. Her smile widened. Of course it could, since she was looking at herself, and who knew better than she the wickedness that simmered beneath her completely proper exterior.
Her chaperone, Mrs Lane-Fox leaned close. "Excessive vanity is most unbecoming in a proper young lady," she whispered reprovingly, although there was more than a trace of laughter in her voice.
Her chaperone's French perfume tickled Chastity's senses, and she gazed down appreciatively at the woman's powdered and well displayed cleavage, from an angle and proximity that most men would never achieve. "I was simply marvelling at how deceptive one's external countenance could be as a guide to the personality within."
"A fact that mankind has probably pondered ever since God placed us upon this earth."
"Or at least since Eve convinced Adam to taste of the Apple," Chastity chuckled, thinking of the frustrated swarm of unsuccessful suitors that gazed longingly in her direction from all corners of the ballroom.
"I think you should give one of them at least a glimmer of hope or people will begin to wonder."
"My goodness, a chaperone who bids her charge to flirt. I am shocked, madam, utterly shocked, I say." She fanned herself as if feeling faint.
It was the young French widow's turn to laugh. "And stop staring so openly at the bubbies of all the charming young things, or there may be even more difficult questions asked. It is not what one does, but …”
"… what one is seen to do. I know, I know. You've warned me often enough – mine aunt," Chastity said, deliberately emphasising the word "aunt", which in common slang referred to a procuress or bawd – although a delicate young thing such as her would not be normally assumed to know such a meaning.
"Ooh, touché, ma chere." Mrs Lane-Fox purred, fluttering her fan, and arching her carefully plucked eyebrows.
Chastity sighed with an air of martyrdom. "I suppose I shall have to let one or two of them dance with me." She found the majority of the men of her acquaintance to be deadly dull, concerned with nothing but horses, cards, and – though they never mentioned it in her presence – bedding every piece of laced mutton they could get their hands on, or that their finances would support.
***
The steady clatter of the horses' steel shod hooves on the road sounded steady and comforting, and Chastity leaned back in her seat with a sigh of relief, glad of the extra space of the clarence. Fashionable skirts seemed to get wider and more difficult to manoeuvre with every year. She fanned her self, her bosom glistening with a ladylike sheen of sweat despite the coolness of the evening, since her body still glowed from the heat which had been generated by the dancing.
"Young Henry seems most taken with you. I've no doubt you'll shortly be seeing his card."
Chastity frowned. "Don't tease so. You know full well I have no intention of making a gift of my inheritance to the first eligible man to come along, nor the second. Father, and you dear aunt, have taught me better than that. I do not oppose the concept of marriage, but it is not the ultimate goal of my existence." She took the example of their young new Queen Victoria in refusing to be rushed into marriage, much to heart, and being independently wealthy, she had little fear of being seen as a hopeless spinster for many years to come.
Her chaperone, friend, and confidante, smiled fondly and stroked the back of Chastity's gloved hand with a fingertip. "Indeed we have."
Chastity felt a tingle run up her arm at the touch, and turned a ladylike pout towards her friend. "Don't tease me so Helene, you know that I am sorely … frustrated as it is. If only …. "
"Now Chassie, we have discussed this before. While Parker may be willing to um, play with you, it would be …. "
"Yes, yes, I know. It would be unwise. Gossip, rumour, scandal, social disgrace, and so forth." Despite her tone, Chastity knew her friend was right. Parker, her maid, was as close to her as it was possible for a maid and her mistress to be, but there was always the looming and social wall between them that neither of them would dare to breach. A master might shag a chamber maid and then dismiss her for some contrived offence, thereby ridding himself of an embarrassment, but a lady's … pleasures required a more intimate relationship than a few minutes bent over a table. If she were older and married, she might have been able to find feminine friends with similar tastes, but a young single heiress was under far too much scrutiny to take such risks. Besides, some of the things that she dreamt of doing to other women would require a degree of control or domination that only a procuress, a prison warden, the governor of a madhouse such as Bedlam, or one of the new style Workhouses, might wield. Hence her frustration. Then she smiled. There were still amusing … things … that she could do with Parker that didn't quite cross the line.
Helene saw the smile on her charge's face. She sighed and tapped Chastity on the knee with her folded fan. "All I can say is, be careful, ma cherie. If there was a scandal, it would ruin my reputation as well."
This seemed to startle the young heiress, who was well aware of Helene's true background. "Your … reputation?" She covered her lips with her gloved fingers as she began to giggle.
Helene smiled, and then began to giggle as well.
The driver of the carriage shook his head at the faint sound of completely improper female laughter coming from inside of the vehicle. Chastity's father had been a good master, and he was totally devoted to Chastity, so he just smiled and spoke to his horses. "On with you boys! The mistress is in a rare mood tonight, so let's be getting her home as swiftly as possible."
Chapter Two
Parker skilfully dodged her mistress's slipper, which Chastity had playfully kicked off after she had dropped gratefully on her bed. "There are easier ways to rid yourself of me, miss," she said reproachfully, while suspiciously eyeing the slipper's twin which dangled from her mistress's toes.
"Why would I want to do that, Parker? Are you not a jewel beyond compare, a veritable paragon of maids?"
The maid sniffed as she knelt to take the dangling slipper. "I see you're in one of your moods, aren't you miss?"
"Nothing of the sort Parker," Chastity replied in tones of injured amazement. "I'm all hot and sticky from my ever so genteel exertions at the ball, and I would be rid of this dress so that I might wash myself down before going to bed … with your assistance of course."
"Of course, miss." A tiny anticipatory smile lifted the corner's of Parker's lips. She was very fond of her mistress, and willingly went along with her little games. She often suspected that her mistress desired much more than either of them dared to voice, and in her heart of hearts, she admitted to herself that she would not have minded. Still, her duties as a lady's maid could be quite liberally interpreted. For instance, it was only normal for a dutiful maid to help her mistress undress – as she was doing right now. Her fingers worked busily, unhooking the back of her mistress's gown. Employing the excuse of moving her mistress's hair away from the fastenings of the dress, she let her fingertips brush over her mistress's neck and shoulders, being very careful to make her touches seem accidental. It would be improper and absolutely unacceptable for it to seem that she was purposefully touching her mistress, even if that was exactly what she was doing and both of them knew it. Even a maid who was regularly shagged by her master would never dare to initiate a caress.
The soft, knowing touch of Parker's fingers on Chastity's skin made her tingle and feel even warmer, although she allowed no sign of this to be displayed in her words or actions, and masked any signs of arousal with impatient shiftings of her body. Her lips curved in smiling appreciation of her maid's deft and discreet touch. The last hook came free, and she felt the weight of the dress fall from around her hips. She took Parker's proffered hand as she stepped daintily out of the dress, clad only in her petticoats, stays, chemise, garters and stockings. Some women were choosing to wear the new fashioned knickers under their chemise, but Chastity enjoyed the feeling of being naked under her skirts, and the thought that someone could simply reach under them and touch her naked fanny made her shiver delightfully. She sometimes wondered if that would ever happen. In the mean time, Parker had removed the three layers of petticoats, and was helping her unhook the front of her stays so that she could get out of the stiff, tight, garment quickly. She knew the maid would undo the laces at the back later before she put the stays away. She uttered a sigh of relief when it came off, especially since the rigid front batten that prevented her from bending over had been inserted into the stays for the ball, to ensure that her belly was attractively smooth and flat under her gown.
Parker placed the discarded dress, petticoats, and stays on the bed for the moment so that she could assist her mistress in removing her perspiration damp chemise.
Ladies of a more modest disposition would have removed this final layer in private, but Chastity deliberately chose to allow Parker to see her completely unadorned. Since servants barely existed in the eyes of their betters, it was almost the same as being alone, or so she would say should anyone question her behaviour. Once the lace trimmed, plain white garment came off, she was completely and gloriously naked, save for her stockings and garters. She always looked forward to what came next with such anticipation that her heart fairly fluttered.
The maid was equally aware of the wicked delight her actions gave her mistress and played up to her as much as she dared. "Should I help you with your garters and stockings, miss?" she asked brightly but unnecessarily, since she knew quite well what her mistress's preferences were in this regard.
Chastity affected to consider this question seriously, then nodded. Rather than seating herself, she remained upright, her eyes following the maid's every move as the girl's starched skirt rustled when she lowered herself to kneel humbly on the carpet before her mistress like a supplicant before some oriental monarch. She felt a distinct wetness form at the juncture of her thighs.
Her face nearly level with her mistress's pubic curls, Parker passed one hand between her legs and the other around the outside of her thigh, as if to embrace her mistress's limb.
Because Chastity was standing with her legs barely apart, Parker's hand and forearm perforce slid over the smooth skin of her inner thighs. The maid's fingers tickled as they searched blindly over the back and side of her thigh for the buckle that fastened the garter, and Chastity felt the girl's breath dance across the front of her limb. This innocent teasing of her senses, and the closeness of her shamefully exposed fanny to the maid's face, aroused such an intense lasciviousness in Chastity's breast and loins that she nearly groaned aloud.
The garter came free, and Parker painstakingly worked the fine fabric of the stocking down her mistress's limb, a task that necessitated much stroking and touching from the top of the thigh all the way to her neat foot and pink, manicured toes. Neither woman acknowledged what was truly happening as Parker went on to the other garter and stocking.
Completely and unabashedly naked, Chastity went over to the large china basin on the sideboard that ran along one wall. The hot water that Parker had poured into it had cooled to a comfortable warmness, so she moistened a hand towel in it and wiped her face and neck with a sigh of comfort. When she uncovered her face, she was not surprised to see Parker standing at her elbow.
With a feigned casualness, she held the cloth out to the maid. "Give me a hand with this, Parker."
"Of course miss," she replied, her voice revealing nothing other than appropriate deference. Starting from her mistress's wrist, she proceeded to use the warm cloth on Chastity's arm, her armpit, her shoulders and so on until she arrived at the other wrist. She then rinsed the cloth, and went to work on her mistress's back.
Chastity remained completely impassive as her maid ran her hand over her entire body with outrageous intimacy. And yet, just as the veils of antiquity and art rendered the depiction of the naked human form decent, so the veil of the wash cloth excused the intimacy of Parker's touch.
When she had finished with the backs of her mistress's legs, she rinsed out the cloth again, and then came around to her front. With the cloth folded around her hand like a glove, she tenderly
towelled her mistress's throat and upper chest. Then she hesitated with her cloth encased hand an inch away from her mistress's breast. "With your permission, miss?"
Chastity was unable to suppress a slight lick of her lips before she nodded once more. "Go on." She caught her breath when the warm moist cloth touched her breast, but continued to act as though it was her boot that was being rubbed and polished, and not her breast and nipple. Nevertheless, she was unable to deny the powerful surge of pleasure that the maid's touch produced in her person. She smiled approvingly at the maid. "You have a delicate touch, Parker."
"Thank you, miss." Parker was acutely aware of her status as a servant. In addition, she was a good and decent girl, and still a virgin. She had never been kissed by a man other than on the top of her head by her father and the occasional uncle, and had never dreamed that she would be handling the body of another adult woman in this manner. Despite the forgoing, Parker could not help but feel aroused by the intimate manner in which she was handling her mistress's body, and she had initially spent many sleepless nights praying and thinking about the alarming feelings that her mistress's little games aroused within her bosom. However, she knew from the gossip of the other servants that many masters had wandering hands, and many a young servant girl had ended up on the street with a swollen belly, while her mistress was careful never to cross the line into true impropriety, so she gradually relaxed and allowed herself to enter into the spirit of her mistress's games and even to enjoy the thinly disguised naughtiness. In fact, she began to play a game of her own, which was to see to what degree she could arouse her mistress whilst still only appearing to do her duties. Her hands moved in light, circular motions over her mistress's breasts, as if polishing globes of smooth marble and not soft, feminine flesh. She had discovered from previous experience that the nipples were particularly receptive to this form of stimulation, and she ensured that her hands continually returned to run the wet cloth over the stiff, crinkled teats.
Chastity stifled a gasp and then smiled when she realised what the little minx was doing. She wished fervently that Parker was not a servant and that they could share and enjoy mutual caresses and perhaps other things on an equal basis. However, she knew herself well enough not to pretend that it was not Parker's subservient status that made the juices flow between her thighs and that she had no desire or need for a social equal in order to satisfy her sensual needs. What she wanted was greater domination and control. She fantasised often of being a ship's captain on a vessel "manned" with a wholly female crew and had visions of flogging a naked female sailor tied helplessly to the mainmast. She realised with a start that she had drifted into an erotic dream, and caught herself just before she began to writhe in reaction to the maddening rubbing of her nipples.
Deciding that she could not decently linger at her mistress's breasts for any longer, Parker continued down over her trim flat belly, narrow waist, and on to the curved feminine hips. Her wiping gradually narrowed and reduced the untouched areas of her mistress's body, until finally, there remained only the neat furred triangle and the space directly between her legs. Once again she looked up at her mistress's face.
Rather than to speak the words that would betray her desire, Chastity merely smiled and allowed one neat pink foot to slide to the side, creating a space between her lower limbs and giving Parker all the answer that she needed.
The maid responded with alacrity, commencing at the top of the furry triangle and working her way southwards towards those most intimate of regions that were guarded by the smooth columns of her mistress's thighs. She smoothed and stroked the curly hairs into a sleek fan-like pattern, and dabbed the cloth along the folds between the thighs and her loins. With the cloth spread flat across her palm, Parker inserted her hand boldly between her mistress's legs and pressed upwards to directly take hold of the plump purse of her mistress's sex. A mixture of conflicting emotions swirled through her being. Childhood teachings insisted what she did was obscene and filthy, while common sense said she was merely doing her job and what her mistress wanted. Most disturbing however, was the insistent voice in her mind that whispered the truth that she dared not even think aloud, which was that she found a powerful, irresistible, pleasure in her actions. The very wickedness of it made her fanny palpitate with feelings she could not even name.
Despite her best efforts, Chastity was unable to prevent herself from quivering from an obvious surplus of erotic emotion when Parker's hand and fingers – through the cloth – rubbed and manipulated her nether lips in a manner that would have made a prostitute blush, all in the name of cleanliness. She smiled at the maid's zeal, which was such that had Chastity not been a virgin, she felt certain that the cloth would have found its way deep into her body like the member of a lover. It was not long however, before she was faced with the completely foreseeable dilemma. Parker's efforts had brought her to the point of climax, and if she allowed the maid to continue her efforts, she would in the next few moments make such a spectacle of herself as to be impossible to disguise her passion from the maid, which would be an embarrassment. On the other hand, the desire to come was close to irresistible, and she could barely countenance the idea of telling the maid to stop.
Coming as she did from a poor family, Parker was no innocent, having grown up in such crowding and close quarters it was inevitable she would become aware of the sexual aspects of life very early on, although her mother had managed to maintain her daughter's virginity until she was old enough to take over this duty herself. This being the case, it was no great feat for Parker to recognise the symptoms of her mistress's impending climax, and quickly discerned her dilemma. Thinking quickly, she produced a very passable imitation of a sneeze, and her body shook convulsively. "My goodness! I'm so sorry, miss. A draft must have carried some dust into the air to make me sneeze." All the while, her hand continued its gentle "cleaning" motions between her mistress's thighs.
It took but a moment for Chastity to comprehend that Parker had adroitly provided her with an excuse that would explain any sudden, inexplicable sounds and movements of her body. She sniffed and nodded, even as she neared the point of no return. "Indeed. I do believe that I feel a tickle in my nose as well. I … ah … ah … ahhh … choo!"
Her mistress's person shook and shuddered vigorously, and Parker discovered that her hand was firmly trapped between her mistress's thighs. Then she was just as suddenly free again when her mistress staggered slightly.
Chastity reached out and grasped Parker's thoughtfully extended hand, her knees having become inconveniently weak. "Oh my goodness. That … sneeze has made me feel quite faint. I do believe I need to sit down."
Parker helped her mistress to the bed and assisted her don her nightgown, before busying herself by hanging up the discarded dress and clearing away the rest of her clothing. She knew her place, and despite what had just happened, she attempted no familiarity. When she done tidying, she presented herself to her mistress, who was reclining on the bed and watching her, propped up by several pillows behind her back. "Will there be anything else miss?"
"No, Parker. That will do for now. You may go."
"Yes, miss."
"And Parker … "
"Yes, miss?"
"Thank you."
"You're quite welcome, miss."
When the maid had gone, Chastity settled comfortably back against the headboard. Her father had seen to it that she was unusually well educated for a woman, and she liked to read the evening newspapers and perhaps a little of a book before going to sleep. An article bemoaning the living conditions in the new workhouses caught her eye, and she read it with increasing interest. She allowed herself to imagine being the governess of a female workhouse and having the lives of all those women in her hands. Several mentions in the article of canings and floggings, as well as the regular compulsory bathing of the inmates under the humiliating supervision of the staff, particularly stimulated her imagination. However, the general coarseness and lack of physical attractiveness of the majority of the poor, presented a less than attractive image to her mind and she shuddered. If only …. Then her eyes perused a page of personal advertisements, and for some reason they fell on several which advertised the requirement for, and the availability of, governesses. Words like "young", "pleasant appearance", "female virtues" especially attracted her attention. Then she yawned and set aside the reading material. She settled under the covers, turned down the lamp and fell into a relaxing sleep, a small smile on her pink lips.
Chapter Three
At the breakfast table the next morning, Chastity smiled over her cup of tea at Mrs Lane-Fox. "A brilliant idea came to me as I lay in bed last night," she announced.
"Was this with your hands over or under the blankets?" her friend and paid companion asked with an amused smile.
"I'll have you know I was reading the newspaper," Chastity replied with a sniff of mock offence. "Anyway, I was thinking about the amended poor laws, workhouses, and governesses."
Helene raised an eyebrow. "Surely you have not spent your entire fortune already?" She reached for the salmon pie. "But I'm certain you'll make a splendid governess, my dear," she added consolingly.
Chastity suppressed the unladylike urge to throw food at the smiling woman and shook her head. "No, silly. I have an idea about how to solve that little problem I'm always talking about."
Helene was tempted to tease her some more, but she could see that Chastity was serious. She popped a fragment of pie into her mouth, chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and then nodded. "Go on then, tell all." She leaned forward to listen.
Mollified, Chastity regained her enthusiasm and impaled a sausage with her fork while she gathered her thoughts. "Well, you have all these women gathered up into these workhouses, separated from their menfolk and even their children. And often subject to the most strict and severe discipline."
Helene nodded and her nose wrinkled. "Yes, but darling those women are so …. " She struggled to find the appropriate words to describe the condition of the street women in the workhouses.
"I agree. But that is when I noted the innumerable under-qualified young women of the middle classes, gentry or even minor nobility, who have come into absolutely dire financial difficulties, all of whom are pursuing a limited number of governess positions." She pushed two slices of bacon together on her plate with her fork. "And that is when I had my brilliant idea."
Helene smiled. "I think I see where you're going with this. However, you will need to offer much better living conditions and some kind of incentive for them to stay over an above mere meals and housing, if you expect to have your way with them."
"Free education, an annual clothing allowance, and the opportunity to earn an annuity of say, 30 pounds a year to commence when they are of some suitable retirement age," Chastity said.
"That will be expensive," Helene responded, tapping her lips thoughtfully.
Chastity chuckled. "I have no husband to throw away my inheritance on horses, cards, and mistresses. I think that what I save there will more than adequately finance my little project."
"How many women are you thinking of?"
"Twenty to twenty-five for a start, perhaps up to fifty."
Helene tilted her head inquiringly. She knew her friend. "Since you bothered to discuss this idea with me instead of rushing ahead with it as you are wont to do, you clearly have a role in it for me?"
Chastity smiled sweetly at her friend. "How astute of you. Since you mention it, I could use your help. You have knowledge of commercial affairs that I lack, as well as a certain skill of … persuasion, with regard to young women and matters sexual." Helene was not really her aunt, but in fact had been a courtesan as well as a very discreet procuress for the well to do in Paris, where Chastity's father had come to know her in the course of his travels to Europe. He had been a very practical man, and he had loved his daughter a great deal. He had seen how the world treated women, and when he realised that he would not live to see her grow much past her twenty-first birthday, he had arranged for Helene to come to England in the guise of a hitherto unknown relative. He and Helene had grown close after the death of Chastity's mother, and he charged her with the education and guidance of her daughter in the ways of the world, and of men and sex in particular.
Despite Queen Victoria's opinion's to the contrary, Helene's experienced eye had quickly determined that Chastity had a strong taste for women as well as men, and in particular for the domination and punishment of women. She had introduced the girl to such reading material as Fanny Hill, An Essay on Onanism, and preserved copies of Harry's List of Covent Garden Ladies, as well as foreign publications such as the works of the Marquis de Sade. Her instruction was not limited to knowledge of erotica and erotic arts, but also about men and their wiles, how to attract and repel them, as well as the same for women. She taught Chastity about finances and dealing with the law, and she even taught her how to pleasure herself.
Helene was intrigued by Chastity's suggestion. As her student had grown steadily more accomplished, she had begun to feel increasingly that she was living off of her student's charity. Helene was used to looking after herself and being in control of her own destiny. Although she was still young and beautiful, she did not want to return to being a courtesan or a procuress, and Chastity's idea seemed to have much merit. She raised her glass of cider. "A toast! To the Fitzhugh Institution for Distressed Gentle Women."
***
The newspaper crackled spitefully as Minerva desperately searched the advertisements for a family in need of a governess, but who did not also require the teaching of mathematics and science. Before he had run away with another woman even younger than Minerva, her father had held the opinion that women were in no need of any education beyond an ability to read, dance, and play a musical instrument tolerably well. His departure had left her and her younger sister and mother destitute, while her lack of education made her nearly unemployable, or able to ask for wages no better than that of a maid. Her marriage prospects were poor as well, since her family background discouraged all save suitors that she would rather have died than marry.
She had responded to one advertisement, offering a position as governess to two little girls. She had gone to the interview with high hopes, only to have them dashed due to the most unexpected of causes. She had been introduced to the mother of the girls, and she had seen the woman's face turn cold the moment she saw Minerva's person. Without another word, she had been turned out of the house as though she had been carrying the plague. It was only when she was seated on the omnibus on the way home, that she had recovered sufficiently from her surprise and disappointment to realise that she had been rejected because she was too pretty. Just like women everywhere, most governesses ranged from pleasant looking to severely plain. However, Minerva was of such beauty that she suffered the embarrassment of drawing impolite male stares whenever she walked down a public street, but until now, she had never considered her good looks to be a disadvantage.
She was close to despair, and had even considered the unspeakable option of 'turning gay' [becoming a prostitute], and taking to the streets to sell herself, an option that no decent middle class woman would consider. She had heard that a virgin fetched a premium price for her first time. However, she had so far rejected this choice of career because she knew that her ailing mother would die from mortification and misery if she ever found out. Despite that, she had gone so far as to undress herself in the bedroom and to blushingly study her naked form in the mirror, imagining she was a gentleman who had paid for her … company. She made up her mind that if the choice was between seeing her mother starve and die, and risking her anger and disapproval, she would sooner be gay.
Then her eye fell on an unusual advertisement. It did not offer work, nor ask for it. Neither did it advertise some amazing new product guaranteed to make one's life better. Rather, it announced that something called the "Fitzhugh Institution for Distressed Gentle Women" was offering help to deserving young ladies of the middle class upwards. Free and comfortable accommodation, free education and training in various commercial skills, a cash training allowance, free meals and a clothing allowance, and the possibility of a lifetime annuity in old age for selected deserving cases. Places were strictly limited and acceptance was subject to a strict interview process, and not on a first-come basis. Minerva strongly suspected it was a fraud of some kind, of which abounded amongst the advertisements, but hope and need compelled her to investigate this seeming miracle, and she fairly flew out of her house.
***
"Fitzhugh Institution for Distressed Gentle Women". The words seemed to glow from the crumpled newsprint. Eliza glance fearfully at the door to her tiny bedroom, which was a size of a large broom closet and had been intended by the architect to house a maid or two. She hushed her daughter, who was crawling around on the hard, lumpy mattress of her coffin sized bed and then looked at the advertisement again. There was no mention of unwed mothers, let alone a mother of an illegitimate girl of two and a half years, but it did not forbid such a person from applying either. Her cousin and his evil witch of a wife had gone to the country for the weekend in order to renew the acquaintance of their lips with the wrinkled arse of their wealthy and ailing uncle, leaving her at home to do the work of several maids for nothing more than room and board.
Making up her mind, Eliza undressed, taking off the dirty and much-mended work clothes. She stripped all the way down to her skin, removing all trace of her humiliation. Randolph had left her little, but she still had a trunk full of pretty dresses and even prettier underclothes, which had been his delight until she had become pregnant. She had worked hard to recover her figure after giving birth to little Annie. Her belly was flat, and her waist neat and slim as it had been when she first caught Randolph's eye, but it had not been enough. He had recently abandoned her like a soiled handkerchief for a new plaything, leaving her homeless and penniless, and with a bastard child in tow and at the mercy of her second cousin, who treated her like a scullery maid.
When she was fully dressed again, which hadn't been easy without the help of a maid or friend, she looked at herself in the mirror and carefully adjusted her expression. She needed to look like someone worth helping, not some beaten down drudge. "Come on Annie, we're going to get some help." She was pleased at the tone of determination in her voice.
***
Sarah-Ann looked around at her familiar surroundings seeking comfort, but everything looked somehow distant and different. Cold. She had just returned from the funeral of both her parents, who had suddenly been taken by a vicious bout of cholera. She sat in her black mourning clothes, trying to understand a world that had been turned upside down. Although well past the age of consent, she was under twenty-one, and legally still and infant. Which meant she was an orphan. She had only a pitiful handful of coins, the cost of the funeral and the creditors having claimed everything, including her family home. Since no relative had come forward to claim her, she was to go to the orphanage tomorrow. Tears began to run down her face. Although many were well intentioned, most orphanages were grim places, with harsh discipline and even harsher living conditions. Nobody cared about an orphan, and the people who ran the orphanages knew it. Her tears dripped from her face and onto her black skirt. She looked down to reflexively brush the shining drops from the fabric, and then she saw the advertisement on the newspaper that someone had dropped on the floor when it had been time to leave for the funeral. "Fitzhugh Institution for Distressed Gentle Women," she mouthed silently. Her lips twisted bitterly. She was certainly distressed. Then her lips relaxed and curved in a tight smile. "Yes I am!" She still had the day before she became a helpless prisoner. She picked up the newspaper and neatly tore out the advertisement.
Chapter Four
The hall was filled to capacity. There must have been over a hundred and fifty women seated and waiting expectantly, and these were only the ones that the watchmen at the door had allowed through. They had been given very specific instructions regarding the kind of women that they were to permit entry. Those with ragged clothing, any other signs of extreme poverty, rough speech indicating a less than genteel background, and any who looked older than twenty-four years of age, were all turned away. Helene had expected forceful, even violent attempts to gain entry, and she had arranged for a dozen burly men who had no objection to getting rough with women to stand by the gate, and the mere sight of their coarse, determined faces had prevented the crowd at the gate from becoming unruly. There was also a sign outside the gate declaring that in the event of any disturbance, the interviews would immediately be canceled.
Half a dozen male clerks had been hired to gather the basic details of each woman – age, address, marital status, reason for applying and so forth, and this process was proceeding smoothly and fairly quickly, save for the occasional bout of weeping or hysterical pleading on the part of the applicants. A young boy continuously went around the crowd with a placard reminding both the waiting women and the ones who had completed their interviews, that there was only twenty five places to be had on this day.
Unknown to the clerks or the women, Helene had prepared her own, unannounced list, based on apparent age, physical appearance, deportment, and tone of voice, which rapidly narrowed the potential candidates down a much more manageable number. As she worked, she gave to a clerk lists of those amongst the already interviewed whom she had rejected, and these were asked to leave as kindly as possible.
A handsome looking woman caught Helene's eye. She had just been turned away after handing in her completed application, and though she was obviously dejected, she maintained her dignity and composure, even thanking the clerk for his time. Helene went over and took her application from the clerk's tray. The clerk had circled the applicant's age, which she had filled in as twenty-eight years, although she looked younger. This was the reason given by the clerk for her rejection. However, Helene's educated eye saw something in the woman, and she was prompted to go after her. "Pardon me Miss Grey, may I have a word with you?"
Surprised, the woman paused and allowed Helene to lead her aside to a private room. When they were alone she said, "I'm truly sorry that I lied about my age. Though it shames me to admit it, I am desperate. I have not eaten in over a day, and I have been evicted from my lodgings due to non payment of my rent."
Helene nodded in a sympathetic manner. "Forgive me for being indelicate, but you are a handsome woman. Have you not thought of going gay?"
The woman's face hardened. "My husband was a soldier, an officer. He was also a great lecher and bedded every women he could lay his hands upon, using my inability to bear children as his excuse. He was also an inveterate gambler, and managed to lose the modest inheritance which I had brought into our marriage before getting himself killed, leaving me nothing but debt. Although I may yet be driven to selling myself, I loathe the idea of being the plaything of another man or men."
In a tone both subtle and suggestive, Helene said, "What about being the plaything of a woman, Molly?"
Startled both by the shocking suggestion and the sudden intimacy, the woman took a step backwards, a hand going to the collar of her dress. "What on earth do you mean?" she cried fearfully, her eyes darting towards the door as if seeking a means of escape.
But Helene was much used to dealing with apprehensive, fearful women, and with a skilful combination of reassuring words and gestures, she rapidly soothed the woman's concern and aroused her interest.
"Ten shillings is a fearful lot of money. What could I possibly do to earn such a sum?" A governess's pay was often no better than twenty-five pounds per annum, so half a pound must have sounded like a fortune to someone who was homeless and had not eaten properly in days.
Helene needed a Matron to be in day to day charge of the Lady House, as she and Chastity had decided to call it, and she thought she saw a glimmer of potential in the woman's face. However this was much in the future. First, she needed to learn a lot about her. "I would not take advantage of you by negotiating while you are faint with hunger or desperate for accommodation. So, free of any obligation, I will offer you meals and a bed for the next three nights."
Molly was astounded by this display of generosity, and a rumble in her sadly empty stomach made her forget all suspicion, and to nod and curtsey to show her acceptance.
"Come then. It is still early enough for breakfast, and our dining hall is already in operation, as we intend to give all our qualifying applicants a meal, whether they are accepted or not."
The starving woman had to forcibly resist the urge to run towards the wide double doors surmounted by the elegant sign that read "Dining Hall". Once through the portal, she was surprised to see the long, white tablecloth covered dining tables, with individual seats, and gleaming cutlery laid out in anticipation of the diners. The smell of roast meats reached her nostrils and Molly nearly swoon when she was reminded of her hunger. This was far away from the utilitarian facilities that she had imagined when she had first read the advertisement. She felt a renewed pang of sorrow that she was unqualified for a place here. It looked like heaven compared to the options that faced her. She glanced at Helene and could not decide if the French woman was being kind or cruel.
Helene led the unsteady woman to a huge side table, where the breakfast foods were laid out. There was everything that any person of the upper classes could have expected at a breakfast table, from sausages, eggs and bacon, to kedgeree. Huge cauldrons of hot tea waited at the end of the table for the diner's refreshment.
To her shame, Molly's hands shook too much for her to fill her plate, and she nearly broke down in tears.
Helene kindly acted as maid and piled the plate with selections of almost everything before leading Molly to a seat. She had already eaten, so when the woman was seated, she poured two cups of tea and selected several biscuits for herself. She allowed the starving woman to eat, engaging her in casual conversation and encouraging her to reveal more of her life and background.
When she had taken the edge off of her hunger, Molly too a sip of her tea, set down the cup and smiled at Helene. "You've been very patient, and clever."
"How so?"
Molly nodded at her plate, and pointed with her chin at the room. "I've had a chance to see what you are offering to the women who qualify, and no one with evil intentions would have bothered to set up such a lavish facade merely to trick women who are already desperate into coming here."
Helene smiled. "As a matter of fact, the patron of the Institution, the sole patron by the way, was inspired by the system of the workhouses. Whatever their faults, the workhouses are intended to help the truly poor and needy."
Molly smiled sourly. "While the needy of the middle and upper classes are conveniently ignored."
"We are the rich, n'est-ce-pas? How can we be needy? It is surely a contradiction."
Molly folded her hands in her lap, resisting the food by main strength of will. "Tell me then, what would you have of me?"
"Consider this an extended interview for possible employment. I am looking for a woman with the right qualities, but they cannot be discovered merely by asking questions or the filling in of a form."
Treacherous hope ignited in Molly's breast once again, and she imagined herself as a trout with a fisherman's hook firmly embedded in her mouth. "I ask again. What would you have of me?"
Helene told her. She saw the rush of emotions flood through the woman, but she remained silent and waited for her to come to her own conclusions.
"Though it shames me to admit it, my husband was inclined to strike me when his temper came upon him, which was often, putting the blame on my barrenness, as if it were something I had deliberately chosen. He was a strong and violent man. As a dutiful wife, I learned to bear it with good grace, and I think that Lady Fitzhugh would be hard put to be as rough with me as he was. However, I have never been …. " At this point her words failed her and her cheeks reddened.
"With a woman?" Helene supplied. "Would it truly be worse than having … relations with strange men and doing whatever their lusts might demand of you?"
"And this is all she would demand of me?"
"And your obedience in all things. I do not use those words lightly. I do not know exactly what may come into her mind, but you shall not refuse her no matter how outrageous her demands."
Realisation came to Molly. "This is why she is being so generous in setting up the Institution!"
"I shall deny it if you attempt to tell anyone, and do not forget that you attempted to gain admission to the Lady House despite knowing that you did not qualify."
Molly shook her head. "You have been kinder to me than anyone I have met in a long time. I would not betray your confidences. Besides, I am certain many of those women out there are even more desperate than I, and would be thankful to be admitted no matter what the price. It is not as if you snatched us off of the street against our will." She smiled, recalling the desperate, almost frenzied struggles amongst the supposedly genteel women outside the gate to the Lady House earlier that morning.